I want to be like you... Jesus (January 24, 2012)

 

The day before yesterday I had insomnia, I couldn't sleep, so I decided to look in my room and found a diary in which I have among other things the following poem as a prayer that I wrote a few years ago, it caused me tenderness thinking about everything I went through in my life to get to that poem, how God became an important part of my life, how everything leads to Him, as in every up and down of every day, every smile, makes me truly feel like a beloved child of God. It seems to me that it should be called "I want to be like You, Jesus."

Here is the poem:

Like ca alm sea

I want my soul like this

Like a tender breeze

So my smile

Give life to my life Lord,

Give life to my life Lord,

And my life you already know who it is

It is you...Jesus.

A Tangerine (May 25, 2020)

 There is a tangerine in the yard of my house, which gave its first fruits last year. My father planted it two years ago, and when it gave these fruits my father was already in the presence of the Lord. Naive as I am, I thought it was a miracle to bear fruit. I spent most of the year, inside the house, without going out to the garden, until one day my sister shouted that the tree had "oranges", but they are tangerines. This year I spend more time in the garden. And I began to water the tangerine with the hope of tasting its fruits again, not as often as I should. Until one day I discovered small green spheres, almost imperceptible. And then, as the days go by, the tangerine gives me life lessons. One day I looked at it and noticed that some fruits had fallen from the branches. The tree is at the height of my vision, one meter and a few centimeters. Then I watered a little more than usual. Some days passed. The spheroids grew, some fell, and sprouted new fruits. And then I asked how often you should water. Someone told me that at least three times a week. I do this only on weekends. I will have to work harder. And then I remembered how, while I was suffering my father’s death, my sister told me: I’ll go out and water the plants. Therefore, it was thanks to her dedication that I could taste the tangerines of that tree that my father planted. And I thought that this is like our soul, it will have to be watered and fertilized, so that the flowers become fruits.  And continue watering so that the fruits grow and ripen before they fall for lack of irrigation. And I recalled the parable of the vineyard. It is Jesus who does not tire of taking care of his vineyard, as a song says that He asks us for fruits of love. We must let Him work in our garden, so that the fruits do not fall before time. That our faith may bear fruit, by example, by counsel, by charity. Fruits of faith, hope and love.  I remember now how Eduardo Verastegui called 50,000 people to pray the rosary together through his channel of you tube and his page on Facebook. Goal that has been overcome by the goodness of God. Now he asks and hopes to reach the goal of a million souls praying in unison by his Facebook and you tube the 31st of May, to close the month of the rosary at one o'clock in the afternoon time of Mexico. Now I remember why I started watering the tangerine: one day I found it blooming. May our lives flourish and bear much fruit. And with the grace of God on this 31st of May may we fill the sky with millions of roses for each Ave Marias para la Virgencita. You are invited.

Chronicle of a wound

They say time heals all wounds. And I'm finding that out firsthand, thanks to the little cut I got on my finger. Although I confess I'm a bit disappointed by how long it's taking to heal. But it's already in the maturation stage, so very soon my finger will be completely healed. I also confess that my brother and a coworker have suggested I leave the wound uncovered so it heals faster, but I'm a little afraid it might get infected. And I was thinking that sometimes we're like that with wounds of the soul. There are times when our hearts carry very heavy burdens, like sin, and we think that if we let them out, they'll hurt us even more. However, we must have faith in God's mercy, go to confession, and unburden ourselves there. Because Jesus, through the priest, will give us the necessary advice to heal our wounds more quickly. And then there's the saving grace He grants us through Jesus Christ in the absolution of our sins. So I promise I won't wear the band-aid again starting tomorrow. Not today, though, because I cook with oil and it might get on the wound. And remember, time heals all wounds, but we have to have faith and hold on to God.

The Raising of the Christ Child

 We just "raised" the Baby Jesus. That is, we prayed the rosary while my sister lifted him from his little bed, dressed him in a beautiful little outfit and hat, and sat him in his little chair. We usually raise him on March 19th, Saint Joseph's Day, because that was my dad's custom, but we chose today because it's Three Kings' Day, the Epiphany of the Lord. At the end, we gave the Baby Jesus a kiss and I sang "The Kings Come from the East." Here's my Baby Jesus now raised in his Nativity scene.

Princess

  August 23, 2019

Sometimes I feel guilty about a poem I wrote for another blog, where my name is God's princess when I proclaim His Word at Mass. Yesterday I felt that way. It's because it's my turn to proclaim at Mass. But God, who loves us so much, reminded me of something. Some time ago, I read on Facebook the true story of a girl who asked a priest if the Virgin Mary was actually our mother. The priest said yes. She asked again, "Is she a queen?" The priest replied, "Yes." At that moment, the girl smiled and said to her mother, "It's true, it's true, I am a princess!" Then God made me feel better; every woman is a princess of God!

A Memory

There are memories that often come to us with the help of images, sounds, words, or scents. Experiences that remain etched in our memory, waiting for something to awaken them. 

 Remembering God in the diary of our lives may seem difficult for those who don't initially believe in Him, but for those who do, it's enough to wake up, to open our eyes. God is the creator of all things, and everything we have is thanks to Him, beginning with life itself. Still, sometimes I feel the need to see God, something that reminds me of Him, that makes me feel His presence, and I wish I had some religious image nearby. And then I wonder, what is God the Father like? And I remember Jesus' words when he says that whoever has seen Him has seen the Father. And they are one true God, together with the Holy Spirit. And God in His simplicity is Love, pure, divine Love, as the priest told us this Sunday, Agape: Love of understanding. And then comes my other memory, an image that I have engraved in my memory with everything and the feeling it awakens in me, of feeling cherished and loved by God. It's an illustration from the catechism I studied for my First Communion. In this drawing, we see a large circle like a host, but in gold, yellow, and white. From this circle, a hand extends to a girl who stands in front of Him and who, to me, also seems to be leaning her hands toward this divine hand. Obviously, it represents the hand of God, who is always there to help us, who never leaves us, and to whom we say the now. 

As Saint John Paul II says, we must draw near not only in prayer of petition, but also in praise, in contemplation, in joy and in sorrow. Recalling this image reminds me, in turn, of the presence of Christ in the Consecrated Host, and how He, God, is always there, always.

This is the image:

It says: God is our Creator, knows everything, loves us, makes us his children and can do everything. God is our Father, good and loving, who has no end.

Return to your first love!

 

One of the passages of the Bible that has caught my attention the most while reading it is found in the Book of Revelation. It's the message to the Angel of Ephesus. In it, he's asked to return to his first love, to remember where he has fallen. My life has been full of spiritual ups and downs, and it seems that when I read it, I was a little angry with God. However, through this reading, He reminded me of my first love, Jesus. I remembered my history within the Church, within its doctrine, and little by little I returned to that first love. Although I will never again have the innocence of childhood, a prayer in one of the prefaces of the Mass says that God returns it to whomever He desires. Hopefully, if we stray from that first love, we will return with renewed innocence and not forget why we learned to love God and His Church. Innocence because Jesus already said that we must be like children to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

Revelation 2:1-7

1

1 2 "To the angel of the church 3 in Ephesus, write this: " 'The one who holds the seven stars in his right hand and walks in the midst of the seven gold lampstands says this:

2

"I know your works, your labor, and your endurance, and that you cannot tolerate the wicked; you have tested those who call themselves apostles but are not, and discovered that they are impostors. 4

3

Moreover, you have endurance and have suffered for my name, and you have not grown weary.

4

Yet I hold this against you: you have lost the love you had at first.

5

Realize how far you have fallen. Repent, and do the works you did at first. Otherwise, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent.

6

But you have this in your favor: you hate the works of the Nicolaitans, 5 which I also hate.

7

" '"Whoever has ears ought to hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the victor 6 I will give the right to eat from the tree of life that is in the garden of God."'

Saints Peter and Paul

 This Sunday, Mass was celebrated for Saints Peter and Paul. The priest told us that despite being very different, Jesus chose them to be the first missionaries of the Church. Saint Peter was a fisherman, and despite having been with Jesus proclaiming the Kingdom of God, Peter denied Jesus three times. However, it was Peter who, moved by God the Father, recognized that Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of God. It was he to whom Jesus said he would build his Church. It was Peter who led the early Church and evangelized the first communities. Paul was a scholar, an expert in the Holy Scriptures, and an avid persecutor of Christians. However, Jesus chose him to be the evangelizer of the pagans, of the first Christian communities. Paul, before being called Paul, was called Saul. But on a journey, he fell—I don't quite remember the animal that was carrying him—a bright light blinded him, and he heard, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" He asked who was speaking and heard, "It is Jesus whom you are persecuting." From then on, Paul converted to Christianity and began preaching the gospel, now with his sight restored. Both died preaching the truth. Saint Peter died crucified upside down, and Saint Paul was beheaded. The priest tells us that they show us how we are all called to be missionaries, no matter where we come from or where we are. They say that God doesn't choose the prepared, he prepares those he chooses, no matter how you feel at the moment. He has a mission for you. I was listening to a priest the other day advising a man to join the night worshippers. The Lord listened to his advice, and his life changed; it made sense. Take heart; there are countless groups in the church you can participate in. You'll see how God strengthens you and you'll be happier. I've been in several groups, the choir, and I currently proclaim the Word of God at Mass (I read the readings). And God has offered me His friendship and sustains me when I think I can't go on. He has always been with you. Encourage yourself to be a missionary of God's love; you will see that you will not regret it. As Saint Paul said, "Woe to me if I do not preach the Gospel."

The Sacred Heart of Jesus in my life

Note: Published first in my Spanish blog on 7/1/11 

Today is the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. It falls   on the first Friday after Corpus Christi, the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, 19 days after Pentecost. 

There's an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in my house, which draws me in an incomprehensible way. It's before this image that I began to talk with Jesus.   And I say incomprehensible, because I truly feel His presence;   it's the image of my friend.    When I feel sad, happy, dejected, tired, it's here, before this image, that I can tell Him my things, talk as if with a friend.   And this happened after my mother's death—the image is in her room. It was because of this that I came to this room, now only my father's, to remember my mother. And although the memory of my mother is present, it's his image that calms me.   I've cried so many times before Him, and when I contemplate His face, I forget everything: my sadness, my fears. It's as if He Himself were speaking to me, telling me that everything will be all right, not to worry, that I will survive.  He is the one who dries my tears, the one who comforts me.    And it was before his image that my tears turned into words, where I began to have a more intimate relationship with Jesus, to tell him about my joys as well.   That was about six years ag, and I didn't know when the feast of His Sacred Heart was celebrated.    I learned about the celebration through my planner, which had the date on it.   I remember that day,   when I realized the date, I wanted to know if they held Mass in my parish to celebrate this special day.   And my sister called a friend, who in turn called the church—or I don't know who, I really don't remember—and they told her yes, there was a Mass.   So my friend, my sister, and I went to Mass of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.   It was truly a blessing from God.   The Confraternity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus entered the church singing, I think with an image, I don't remember exactly.   And people attended who didn't even know that our parish held such a celebration; someone notified them that same day.   I remember that during Mass, the light coming through the stained-glass windows illuminated the image. I turned to look at them and found a stained-glass window of the Holy Spirit.   It was a Friday afternoon, I don't know what time, but it was a very beautiful experience to be able to celebrate His feast.   After Mass, there was a gathering, and I think there was a rosary before the meal; I don't remember exactly.   I don't know if I would have reached resignation without this image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, but it was through it that I was able to feel that overflowing love of Jesus, who never abandons us.   A heart inflamed with love for us, who suffered so much for humanity, and who is always there to listen to us, to give us His love, and to bring us closer to Him.   I must confess that I felt such closeness to Him that I even felt guilty for not visiting the Blessed Sacrament as frequently.  present in all the tabernacles of the world, for how would I feel if I were really in front of Him?

Pentecost Sunday

 Today we celebrate Pentecost, the coming of the Holy Spirit, in our parish. By God's mercy, I was assigned to read the first reading in Spanish. Another lector read the psalm in Spanish, and a third lector read the second reading in the Che dialect of Guatemala. The Gospel was proclaimed by the Father in Spanish. The priest explained to us the gifts of the Holy Spirit. The first is the gift of the fear of God, which is not like worldly fear, but rather the fear of offending God, holding Him in respect and reverence. The gift of knowledge, which allows us to know and desire the things of God rather than those of the world. The gift of fortitude, which gives us the strength not to sin against God. The gift of wisdom, which allows us to judge divine plans accurately. The gift of understanding, which helps us understand the things of God. The gift of counsel, which helps us discern the paths of life. The gift of piety, which helps us savor the things of God. The Father tells us that to know if we have the gifts of the Holy Spirit, we will know by their fruits: love, joy, gentleness, peace, patience, temperance, kindness, and gentleness. After Mass, we headed to the parish hall, decorated with flags from different countries. There were also tables with food from different countries. There were performances by matachines, flamenco dancers, Aztec dancers, and singers.

When I arrived a woman was singing a song of Pentecost. I took food I think from Honduras and I found a chair and sat down. After the singer there were the "matachines" that is dancers who dance for the Virgin of Guadalupe. I was emotional and cried a little, I was moved because they were wearing the clothes that the matachines of my small town wore, and they made music with their clothes. After them they danced Flamenco, a dance from Spain. I liked the movement of their hands and feet. After the Aztec dance. The dancers were dressed like the natives of pre-Columbian Mexico with feathers on their heads. I didn't see them much because I had to go home.